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Sex is the most fun you can have without laughing.

Any idiot can get laid when they're famous. That's easy. It's getting laid when you're not famous that takes some talent.
Sex without love is an empty experience, but as empty experiences go it's one of the best.
Older women are best, because they always think they may be doing it for the last time.
You have to accept the fact that part of the sizzle of sex comes from the danger of sex. You can be overpowered.
Sex is like money; only too much is enough.
Sex pleasure in woman is a kind of magic spell; it demands complete abandon; if words or movements oppose the magic of caresses, the spell is broken.
There is nothing safe about sex. There never will be.
For once you must try not to shirk the facts: mankind is kept alive by bestial acts.
If I were asked for a one line answer to the question What makes a woman good in bed? I would say, A man who is good in bed.
Whoever named it necking is a poor judge of anatomy.
Sex is one of the nine reasons for reincarnation. The other eight are unimportant.
Sex is as important as eating or drinking and we ought to allow the one appetite to be satisfied with as little restraint or false modesty as the other.
The act of sex, gratifying as it may be, is God's joke on humanity. It is man's last desperate stand at superintendency.
Sex. In America an obsession. In other parts of the world a fact.
Sex is two plus two making five, rather than four. Sex is the X ingredient that you can't define, and it's that X ingredient between two people that make both a man and a woman good in bed. It's all relative. There are no rules.
Skill makes love unending.
Sex is a conversation carried out by other means. If you get on well out of bed, half the problems of bed are solved.
A Bay Area Bisexual told me I didn't quite coincide with either of her desires.
Sex -- the great inequality, the great miscalculator, the great Irritator.
The more developed sexual passion, in both sexes, is very largely an emotion of power, domination, or appropriation. There is no state of feeling that says mine, mine, more fiercely.
Sex is the last refuge of the miserable.
Sex is the mysticism of materialism and the only possible religion in a materialistic society.
Sex is. There is nothing more to be done about it. Sex builds no roads, writes no novels and sex certainly gives no meaning to anything in life but itself.
Sex is more exciting on the screen and between the pages than between the sheets.
Everyone probably thinks that I'm a raving nymphomaniac, that I have an insatiable sexual appetite, when the truth is I'd rather read a book.
You have to see the sex act comically, as a child.
The question of sexual dominance can exist only in the nightmare of that soul which has armed itself, totally, against the possibility of the changing motion of conquest and surrender, which is love.
I've tried several varieties of sex. The conventional position makes me claustrophobic and the others give me a stiff neck or lockjaw.
If the devil were to offer me a resurgence of what is commonly called virility, I'd decline. Just keep my liver and lungs in good working order, I'd reply, so I can go on drinking and smoking!
If it weren't for pickpockets, I'd have no sex life at all.
Sex is a short cut to everything.
You can't remember sex. You can remember the fact of it, and recall the setting, and even the details, but the sex of the sex cannot be remembered, the substantive truth of it, it is by nature self-erasing, you can remember its anatomy and be left with a judgment as to the degree of your liking of it, but whatever it is as a splurge of being, as a loss, as a charge of the conviction of love stopping your heart like your execution, there is no memory of it in the brain, only the deduction that it happened and that time passed, leaving you with a silhouette that you want to fill in again.
There are very few jobs that actually require a penis or vagina. All other jobs should be open to everybody.
Any woman who chooses to behave like a full human being should be warned that the armies of the status quo will treat her as something of a dirty joke. That's their natural and first weapon. She will need her sisterhood.
I never miss a chance to have sex or appear on television.
Back in the days when men were hunters and chest beaters and women spent their whole lives worrying about pregnancy or dying in childbirth, they often had to be taken against their will. Men complained that women were cold, unresponsive, frigid. They wanted their women wanton. They wanted their women wild. Now women were finally learning to be wanton and wild -- and what happened? The men wilted.
I believe that it's better to be looked over than it is to be overlooked.
I believe that organic sex, body against body, skin area against skin area, is becoming no longer possible, simply because if anything is to have any meaning for us it must take place in terms of the values and experiences of the media landscape. What we're getting is a whole new order of sexual fantasies, involving a different order of experiences, like car crashes, like travelling in jet aircraft, the whole overlay of new technologies, architecture, interior design, communications, transport, merchandising. These things are beginning to reach into our lives and change the interior design of our sexual fantasies. We've got to recognize that what one sees through the window of the TV screen is as important as what one sees through a window on the street.
It is true from early habit, one must make love mechanically as one swims; I was once very fond of both, but now as I never swim unless I tumble into the water, I don't make love till almost obliged.